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Within five days, we have heard two, long passion readings—Matthew’s version on Palm Sunday and John’s version today. It doesn’t really matter which version of the four I read, I always come away with a feeling of inadequacy. It’s the feeling that I could and should be a better follower of Christ, and that I’m probably no better than those who showed such disdain towards him 2000 years ago. I sincerely want to be a better disciple of Christ, but I don’t always know how to do it.

When we read any Scripture readings, the goal is not simply to find ourselves relating to this character or that character; the goal is to grow in the likeness of Christ. The goal and the end result are sometimes miles apart, or as Jesus says, “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” Bravado (all the wonderful things I’m going to do for God) is easy to come by, but putting faith into action…well, that’s another story.

There is lots of bravado in these gospel readings. It was apparent in the gospel reading we had two Sundays ago about the raising of Lazarus. When Jesus stated the obvious that Lazarus was dead, but that he still intended to go Bethany to see him, Thomas replied, “Let us also go, that we might die with him.” Thomas knew that they recently tried to stone Jesus to death in Bethany. It’s like Thomas was saying, “I’m not afraid to go back to Bethany. I’m willing to enter the eye of the storm, with you, Jesus. I’ll follow you, Jesus, even if it means putting myself in danger. I’m willing to join Lazarus in death.” Not a bad thing to pad a resume with.

The bravado, the swagger continues when Jesus is arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane in Mark’s gospel. A young man wearing only a linen cloth follows Jesus into the garden. The linen cloth is his burial cloth. By showing up in a burial cloth, he was basically saying, “I’m here to go all the way, even to death, with you, Jesus. I got your back, Jesus. I’m not afraid of dying.” Yet, the very next line says that the Roman soldiers got a hold of him, but they didn’t get all of him. He ran off buck naked leaving the linen cloth behind. So much for the gospel streaker!

Of course, bravado is in all the Apostles’ teeth. When Jesus told them that they would all desert him in his hour of need, they all categorically denied it with, “Surely, you’re not speaking about me. Maybe the guy at the end of the table with the shifty eyes might do that to you, but I would never abandon you, Lord!”

Today’s passion reading comes from the Gospel of John. In John’s gospel, sin is equated with “not seeing properly.” Not seeing has nothing to do with physical blindness. Not seeing, in John’s gospel, has everything to do with denying the truth even when the truth is in plain sight. In other words, we tend to see what we want to see, and we push everything else away.

Jesus uses much more than the eyes of his head to see with. He sees with the eyes of the Spirit. The eyes of the flesh will help you get your driver’s license, but in the spiritual life, they won’t get you very far. If you want to learn anything worthwhile in the spiritual life, here’s a little trick. Do not look at Jesus; learn to look with Jesus. When you look with Jesus’ eyes, the eyes of the Spirit and not just the physical eyes, you will see things whole, complete, and in their entirety. You will see the big picture. When Peter refuses to allow Jesus to wash his feet, he is looking at Jesus, but he is not looking with Jesus. Peter you’re not seeing with the eyes of the Spirit, that’s why you are pushing me away. You do not see where this gesture of foot-washing is going, but later you will see, and you will understand.

Jesus sees past our bravado. Thank goodness. Jesus sees broken people who, like Humpty Dumpty, can’t put themselves back together again. Jesus is not a fortuneteller, but he is someone who sees into our futures. As Peter is trying, but failing, to warm himself near the fire, Jesus sees hope in Peter’s future. Beyond the bravado that failed Peter and led him to the courtyard where the fires of denial were burning, Jesus sees down the road, to another fire. This charcoal fire is burning on the shores by the Sea of Galilee. It has some fish cooking on it. The Risen Lord calls Peter from his fishing boat to join him on shore, not for a scolding but to speak words of hope to Peter. He wants to give Peter new eyes so that Peter can see past the fire of denial to the charcoal fire of love, forgiveness, and new beginnings.

If discipleship has nothing to do with bravado, nothing to do with padding your resume with qualifications designed to impress Jesus, then what are the prerequisites for being a disciple? The short answer is–the ability to receive.

It’s as if Jesus is saying, over and over, “All I ever want to do was give my life to you. All I ever wanted you to do was receive it.

All I ever wanted to do was to give you a personal invitation to a wedding banquet. All I ever wanted you to do was receive it and tell me you’re coming.

All I ever wanted to do was sit by a well and give you life-giving waters that would quench every thirst you have ever had. All I ever wanted you to do was to receive it and drink it all in.

All I ever wanted to do for you was to give you the ability to see the mysteries of God all around you, as I do. All I ever wanted you to do was receive those new eyes so that you could see a world with a future full of hope.

All I ever wanted to do was give you eternal life. All I ever wanted you to do was to receive it, so that you would have life to the full.”

The prerequisite for discipleship is the ability to receive. Let’s put our inadequacies aside and come to the Cross with open hands ready to receive.

Fr. Phil Mulligan